


dead summer's wildest nights

by inlovewithnight



Category: Bandom, Empires
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-27
Updated: 2012-06-27
Packaged: 2017-11-08 15:56:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/444898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inlovewithnight/pseuds/inlovewithnight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Garage Hymns tour.</p>
            </blockquote>





	dead summer's wildest nights

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lalejandra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lalejandra/gifts).



The trailer smells bad.

Tom stares into it, wondering who was dumb enough to throw a bag of food back there in this heat. When he figures it out, that dude is going to be driving overnights forever. It's too dark now to dig through the trailer in search of a bag of garbage, and once it's daylight it's going to be too hot to even be alive. Fucking fuck.

He hears footsteps and looks over his shoulder to see Sean coming down the sidewalk, hunched over in the harsh yellow of the streetlights, carrying an amp with the tambourine balanced on top.

"I can't find Julio and Mike," he says, and Tom bites back a sigh. "They probably went to get something to drink." Sean leans into the trailer and wrinkles his nose. "Did something die in here?"

That's a worse thought than rotten food. Tom is definitely not going digging around in the dark now. "I hope not."

Sean pushes the amp into the trailer and tucks the tambourine between it and Max's pedal board. "It's so fucking hot."

Tom makes a vague noise of agreement. Sean says that, at a minimum, fifteen times a day. It is indeed fucking hot right now. The East Coast is in a heat wave. They've discussed it, they've looked at weather apps, they've listened to the radio. Tom's decided his options are to get used to it, or to lie down in a parking lot and die. Sean isn't at that stage of acceptance yet.

"Where's Max?" he asks, stepping into the street and swinging his arms in slow arcs. The air feels heavy against his skin; that's not the heat, though, it's the humidity. They should go to Arizona, experience a dry heat, just for the novelty. He would love to take pictures in the desert, all that surface emptiness that's full of things people don't see because they don't want to take the time to look closer, or to squint their eyes.

"He probably went with them." Sean leans against the trailer, staring down at his feet. He's still wearing his sweat-through t-shirt from the show. Tom fumbles in his pocket, finds his wadded-up handkerchief, and wipes the sweat from the hollow of Sean's throat.

"I'm sweaty everywhere. That's not going to help." Sean's smiling, though, a little bit, his eyes closed. Tom shrugs and puts the handkerchief back in his pocket, then puts his hands on either side of Sean's head and leans in.

"It's too hot," Sean says, and Tom nods. From the corner of his eye, he can see clouds of bugs swarming under the streetlights. The hum of bugs and lights in heavy still air. The sound of summer.

"We did good, though. Good show. Don't you think?"

Tom knows the rise and fall of Sean's voice in all its patterns. This one doesn't mean real uncertainty that needs reassurance. Sean just wants to share a moment.

"Fucking good," he answers, and Sean grins, bumping his shoulder against Tom's arm.

"We should find them," Sean says. "Maybe they got water."

Team Spirit's van left half an hour ago. They have miles to go tonight and another show tomorrow. Tom's head spins a little, when he thinks about it; space and time lose their edges, blend together and blur. It's all just the van and the road and the heat and the guys.

"Tom," Sean says, laughing softly. "Tom Conrad. You are zoning out on me, man."

Tom shrugs. "It's a good night."

"It is." Sean nods and closes his eyes, at ease in the space between Tom's arms. "Too fucking hot, though."

Tom presses a kiss to the hinge of Sean's jaw, just to taste the sweat.


End file.
